The Lost One
by BanterEdition
Summary: She couldn't remember who she was, what she was, how she KNEW things. But… that was okay. She was okay. Or at the very least, she'd BE okay. Because she wasn't alone. He was there. He'd SAVED her and he was there. So she'd be okay. Even if she never remembered. She'd be OKAY. Doctor/OC fanfiction. Will eventually go into classic who
1. Chapter 1: A Desert and the Steel Room

**_AN: SO! Here's a lil' story I've been considering. Please do tell me what you think so far! I'll hopefully have the second chapter out soon!_**

* * *

 _Chapter 1: A Desert and the Steel Room_

* * *

 _Burning_. She was **BURNING**. Everything around her was _burning_.

Pale blue eyes blinked open. Her vision filled with a wide, bright baby blue sky filled with fluffy white clouds. _A deep breath_. In and out. She lay on the dirty desert floor. Watching the clouds pass by with idle interest. Her thoughts drifting through her mind with equal intangibility and careless wonder. _Where am I?_ She couldn't help but wonder. _Who am I?_ Perhaps a more pressing question. Or was it? Did it really matter, who she was? Did anyone know who they were? Or were they simply themselves? The questions passed, one after the other, like sand sliding through her fingers.

Time passed without notice. The sun, bright and almost oppressing in its heat as it peered down at the empty land below, inching across the sky. Slowly rising to its height before falling towards the horizon. The once baby blue sky changed, shifting into a wondrous mix of purple, red and orange with hints of yellow and soft pink. _Like a painting_. She thought. Swirling colors, warm and subtle stretching across the sky.

Pale pink lips chapped and colored with dry blood shifted into a small smile as her distant, lost gaze took in the countless stars shining brightly in the deep blue sky. A soft, almost _nostalgic_ emotion filling her chest as she shifted, lifting an arm out, reaching towards that beautiful, wonderous sky.

She could imagine, laying there, that she could touch those stars. The picture so vivid in her mind, she couldn't help but wonder if it was a memory. _Could it be a memory?_ A moment of her past long forgotten? Or perhaps a dream. A hope for the future. _Her_ future. Did she have a future? Could someone without a past hold a future?

 _She sighed_ , letting her arm fall back to the rough desert floor. Her gaze shifting, searching for something in that near endless sky. For what, she wasn't sure. It was more a _feeling_ than anything. A feeling that there was something there. Something _important._ She couldn't help but wonder if this _feeling_ was the result of some forgotten dream as well. A dream saturated in starlight and laughter and _hope_.

Time passed. The night growing darker, a bone-deep _cold_ settling in her too thin frame. _Another sigh_. Burdened with the knowledge that she'd have to move. A thought only reaffirmed by the sharp howl that pierced through the darkness. Reminding her that the desert surrounding her was a dangerous place. She couldn't remain here forever. Or rather, she _shouldn't_. Not if she intended to ever return to… where did she intend to return? Did she have a place to return? Perhaps… perhaps she could find a place to return to.

With a, albeit half-thought, plan in mind, she pushed herself to her feet. Glancing at the vast desert surrounding her on all sides. She considered her options, before picking a direction and starting her journey.

She walked.

And she walked.

And she walked.

Step after step after step.

Wandering the seemingly endless desert without care or destination. The night stretched on, the soft breeze shifting into a stiff wind that set her matted, flame red hair whipping around her face and the tattered and singed, once white, gown draped over her thin and pale frame dancing around her. Still, she walked on.

Hours passed, and still, she walked. Careless of the cuts and bruises littering her bare feet and legs. Numb to the pain and cold that had overwhelmed her petit, malnourished frame.

She wasn't certain how long she'd walked. Nor could she remember how far she'd gone. But her empty stomach had ached, and her tired limbs seemed to shake under her weight. Each step _hurt_. Her legs protesting every movement. Yet she refused to rest. Some small, quiet voice in her mind telling her it'd be a _bad idea_ to stop now. That, should she stop, she might not find the strength to start walking again.

Time continued to pass, and the horizon began to shift. Buildings. There, along the hazy horizon with the red-orange sunrise as an almost idyllic backdrop, were buildings.

A town? Or perhaps a city? She couldn't say for certain. It didn't really matter in the end. Because it was a _place_. A place with buildings. Which meant a place with _people_ and, hopefully, _food_. Her stomach _growled_ at the thought, and she wasted no time in resuming her steady trek along the otherwise barren landscape. A new sense of eager _anticipation_ filling her heart with **hope**.

A small, joyous smile curled at her lips as she approached the settlement. She'd barely managed to reach the outskirts before her legs gave out underneath her, the weight of her journey coupled with the tragic state of her body too much for the thin, sparsely muscled limbs to handle. Still, she refused to give in, pushing herself forward, dragging her battered body along the dirt and gravel, ignoring the pain it caused as the action irritated her countless injuries and aching limbs.

She'd managed to drag herself a few feet forward, fingers brushing against cool concrete before her blurry vision turned dark. Her tired mind refusing to allow her another moment of consciousness. She could only hope she'd wake up again. And perhaps, perhaps things will be better than. Perhaps her aches and pains would ease away. Perhaps… perhaps she wouldn't be alone. Perhaps someone would find her. Maybe, if she was lucky, someone would _save her_.

 _ **BURNING**_. Fire licking at her skin. _Consuming her_. Her blood **boiling** in her veins. _Everything was burning_.

She woke with a gasp. Wide, blue eyes darting around, searching desperately for… for… _confusion_ settled on her features as the dream **NIGHTMARE** she'd been suffering from only moments before seemed to slip away. Nothing but a phantom sensation left in its wake. Why was she scared again? She couldn't…

She tried to move, tried to shift positions to ease the odd, uncomfortable pressure placed on her arm, only to discover she _couldn't_ move. She was trapped. Or to be more precise, _strapped_. Thick, leather straps. Secured firmly around her thin wrists. Holding them down against a cool, steel table. Upon further inspection, she found her ankles were also held down by matching leather straps buckled firmly in place, rendering her immobile. Curious, she tried to lift her head. Intent on investigating her surroundings.

From what little she could see from her awkward position, she was in a room. The three walls in sight comprised of polished steel, a large, darkened window taking up the majority of the wall to her left. For observation. At least, that's what it appeared to be for.

A door opened somewhere behind her, interrupting her inspection of the curious room. The sound echoing almost _ominously_ against the steel walls. Her gaze shifted to focus on the polished steel wall in front of her. A hazy, distorted reflection of a man in what appeared to be a gray suit walked into the room. She watched the reflection as the man walked towards her. Each step accompanied by a small _click_ of his shoes against, what she assumed to be, tiled floor. A softer, echoing _clack_ accompanying the sound as another man entered the room behind the first. The second man dressed in a black, or possibly dark blue suit. Navy, she guessed. The grey man continued with his rhythmic, steady steps. And her gaze shifted, watching as he walked into view. He _smirked_ when he noticed he had her attention. The Navy-clad man remained just out of view. His fitted suit rustling slightly as he shifted on his feet. He seemed almost _nervous_.

"Lift her." The grey man ordered. His voice dripping with confidence and smug satisfaction. She didn't like it.

At the command, there was an answering _clank_ and a soft **whirring** of technology as the hard table she was laying on seemed to _tilt_. Within minutes, she found her position shifted so she was perpendicular to the floor, her thin wrists and damaged ankles _aching_ as they were now forced to support her weight. The man standing before her looking up at her. Seeming almost _proud_.

"You're awake. Good." Loud and imposing, the words echoed against the steel walls. An underlying _promise_ darkening the otherwise jovial tone that accompanied the statement.

"You know, you're quite the _curious_ little alien. I mean, two hearts, a binary vascular system. Not to mention your _blood_." He _laughed_. Loud and excited, like he'd found something _unbelievable_. The sound sent shivers down her spine, her curiosity for the grey-suited man shifting into apprehension.

"Plus, there's the fact that you just **appeared** out of nowhere. Just, _poof_ and then you're there. Like MAGIC. Even stranger, you're _saturated_ in radiation. Now, my scientists figured that radiation has something to do with how you just _appeared_ out of thin air. I'm inclined to believe it. Problem is, we don't actually **KNOW** what radiation it is, and our instruments are having… _problems_ studying it. Hell, they could barely _detect it_. Which poses a problem. Because you see, my scientists, they figure that this radiation of yours could be harnessed to create near _instant_ teleportation."

She tried to listen to his passionate speech. She really did. It sounded important. But she was just so _tired_. The exhaustion from her rather long journey through the desert paired with the injuries that had been littering her malnourished frame made it _difficult_. He mind was drifting. The man seemed to notice her lack of attention, and his smile fell. _Disappointment_ etching into his features as he observed her.

 _He sighed_. The sound oddly **heavy**. Weighted. Like it carried a promise. Of what, she couldn't say. But it made her nervous. The man gave her one last searching look before turning his attention to the man in the dark suit standing behind her.

"Seems like she's having trouble listening. I think we'll need to bring Simmons in. Maybe he can help _encourage_ her."

The grey man shifted his attention back to her. That proud smirk returning with a vengeance. Something almost _sinister_ in the man's expression. **FEAR** gripped her as she watched the grey man walk from the room. His strides sure and _confident_. The man in navy seemed to hesitate a moment before quickly following behind him. She could be wrong, but she thought she heard him whisper an _apology_ to her before closing the heavy steel door behind him.

Time passed without mark. Her fear fading away as the exhaustion returned. Her eyelids grew heavy, and before long, she'd found herself sleeping despite the awkward position and mild pain.

 _It hurt. So much fire. Everything was on fire. And she was_ _ **BURNING**_ _. When would it stop? Would it ever stop? Why wouldn't it_ _ **STOP**_ _!_

The door opening woke her from her nightmare, and she blinked the remnants of sleep away with a small yawn. Her gaze shifting, searching the room for the one who woke her. A man in a bright orange jumpsuit walked into view pushing a metal cart full of tools. He glanced at her, dark brown eyes alight with sadistic glee as he took a chance to observe his new _test subject_.

She tilted her head, wincing slightly at strain in her muscles at the action. Her bad sleeping posture had done her already aching and battered body no favors, and she could FEEL the knots that had settled in her muscles. Already she missed the desert. The endless, open space and bright blue sky. The fresh air and soft breeze. She couldn't help but wonder if she'd ever see it again.

"Now, Van Statten has quite a few things he'd like to know. Let's see if we can get him some answers."

And thus, started the torture. Or rather, the _experiments_ , as they called them. But for her, it was nothing but **TORTURE**.

She couldn't say how _long_ she'd been there. Couldn't say when one day ended and the next began. It seemed endless. Simmons would visit her regularly. Talking to himself, or occasionally asking her a question as he set about cutting her apart and sewing her back together. Testing the limits of her body. Investigating just how this alien body of hers worked.

Every so often, the man in the grey suit, who she'd later learned was _Van Statten_ , would visit her. Bragging about something he'd learned from their many _experiments_ or questioning some peculiarity they'd discovered about her body. No matter what he'd had to say, she never responded. Only ever offering him a dull, emotionless stare. Her already fractured mind had seemed to _shatter_ under the constant stress and pain she was subjected to. Her thoughts disjointed and distant, drifting through her mind without rhyme or reason. Her emotions locked away, hidden from the world. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. Wouldn't offer him the honor of hearing her voice. No matter what he did, she refused to give him _anything_.

Van Statten seemed to grow progressively more _annoyed_ with her. It would seem, every time they'd discovered something about her, or every step forward they'd make in their research, _something_ would happen. As if some unknown force seemed intent on ensuring their experiments remain **incomplete**. It had infuriated the man, and after each accident or set back, he'd seemed intent on taking his anger out on her. She didn't mind. The man was more _vocal_ in his anger than anything. Often threatening, but rarely ever **DOING** anything. The man, it seemed, lacked the stomach for it. It would be _amusing_ if it wasn't for Simmons. The sadistic scientist always seemed intent on doing what his boss couldn't. Often finding new and inventive ways to torture her in the name of _science_.

Time passed.

And passed.

And passed.

Days and Weeks and Months and Years slipping by.

 _And then she had a visitor._

Van Statten had walked into her room with an air of _excitement_. That familiar, proud smirk tilting his lips once more. She couldn't help but wonder _why_. He rarely visited her anymore. Apparently, she was a _lost cause_. Now, he was placing his hope in his first specimen. The 'Metaltron', as he called it. She'd never seen the being, but every so often she could _hear_ it. A soft, pleading voice begging for help. She'd try to sooth it, but it was… difficult. Especially when her own thoughts were so broken and fractured.

Perhaps he'd had some progress with his _Metaltron?_ That would explain the excitement. But… no. No that wasn't it. She could tell. The glint in his dark eyes promised something else. _Why?_

A man followed behind him, and her curiosity grew as she took a moment to observe this stranger. The man seemed confused himself. Burrow furrowed as pale blue eyes took in her battered body. Lingering on the many scars decorating her pale skin. He seemed to grow _angry_ as he realized just WHY she was here. That was a first. She'd never seen someone grow _angry_ for her before. Angry at her, and perhaps the occasional note of sorrow or pity from the people who'd follow behind Van Statten's footsteps. But never anger.

 _Why are you angry? Are you angry? You're angry. But not at me? Why? Hello?_

His expression shifted into genuine _surprise_ at the silent questions. And she couldn't help but wonder if he'd **HEARD** her. So few actually _heard_ her here. So few wanted to. Could he hear?

 _Hello? Can you hear me? You can hear me! Angry. Why are you angry?_

"This is subject 2. She doesn't talk, but she can understand us. Our doctors haven't found any _physical_ reason for her silence. But she remains mute despite our _continued_ efforts to make her speak. She doesn't even _scream_."

Van Statten spoke with an air of authority. Interrupting her fractured thoughts as she shifted her attention to the man who claimed _ownership_ over her. A small frown pulling at her features.

 _Dangerous. He's dangerous. Run. He'll hurt. Run. Run so far away. Please. I'm Sorry. He's dangerous. He'll hurt you. Don't let him know. Don't let him know you can hear me. Don't let him know you're not human. He'll hurt. Run. Please run._

"We've tried everything, but after a couple weeks, we couldn't even get a _sound_ from her. And yet, some of my employees report hearing a _voice_. And they're all absolutely positive it's hers. Occasionally, they say they can hear her _singing_. Sometimes it's questions. Other times it's just random nonsense. One man said he heard her ask what _fish fingers_ were. Needless to say, he was fired on the spot. I don't have time to waste on bad jokes. Still, it's _curious_ isn't it Doctor. How can someone be _heard_ when they never speak? My scientists think it might be mental. They figure she's using her _mind_ to communicate. Absolutely _fascinating_ isn't it?"

 _Doctor? You're a doctor? No. Not like them. You're different. Run Doctor. Run. Don't let him know you're different. I'm sorry. Please run. I'm sorry. I'm sorry._

The Doctor stared at her a moment longer. His anger had _shifted_. Morphing into something _deeper_. Like a storm, growing, _building_ into something dangerous. She pondered his anger. His anger FOR **HER**. Not at her. He wasn't angry at her. He was angry _for her_. Such an ancient anger. Such a dangerous anger.

Van Statten continued his speech, ignorant of the burning _anger_ building in the man at his side. Smug confidence growing as he started explaining a few of the more mild experiments they'd conducted on the alien. The Doctor _tensed_. And for a moment, the air itself seemed to **still**. Each second felt like a lifetime, and then the tension _passed_. But the anger was still there. Simmering beneath the surface of those ancient blue eyes. The Doctor seemed to consider her for a moment. And she could see it. She could _see_ it in those ancient eyes. The promise. He'd help her. He'd _save_ her. And she smiled. Soft and thankful and apologetic. She smiled, and he smiled back. Proud and angry and _promising_. He'd save her. He'd save her and he'd make Van Statten pay.

 _Help. Help them. Someone. I don't know. I'm sorry. I hear them. Begging, PLEADING for help. I can't– I try but I don't… Help them. They're trapped. So long they've been trapped. The first, before me, his first prisoner. Please. I'm sorry. Please. Please help._

Van Statten, for all his prideful boasting, seemed to miss the silent moment between the two aliens. The Doctor seemed to use the man's ignorance to his advantage. Shifting on his feet and stuffing his hands in his pockets, he shifted his attention to the man at his side. A mask of casual _indifference_ sliding into place as he rocked back on his feet.

"You said this was your _second_ subject? Mind if I take a peek at the first."


	2. Chapter 2: Dalek - The Doctor

**_AN: SO so sorry this took so long. My computer is trash. And I was struck with a small note of writer's block._**

* * *

 _Previously:_

 _"You said this was your second subject? Mind if I take a peek at the first?"_

* * *

Van Statten had given the Doctor his signature smirk at the question. Turning sharply on his heel and leading the man from the room with a wave of his hand. Eager to show off his _first_ specimen. She had watched them leave. Pale blue hues focused intently on the Doctor as he followed behind Van Statten. He'd paused, turning his attention to her and gifting her a small smile. _A promise_ shining bright in those ancient blue eyes.

 _I'll help_.

And she knew, she **KNEW** , he'd keep his promise. _He'd help_. She could feel it in her very being. An undeniable fact of the universe. _He'd HELP._ And that knowledge seemed to ease her. Tension bleeding from her frame as she relaxed against her restraints for the first time since she'd found herself captive here in this steel room. _He would help_. Her lips curled into a small, barely-there smile. Genuine _joy_ filling her chest. Warming her to her very core. _He would help._ She only had to wait. She could wait. She's already waited so _long_. She could handle waiting a little longer.

…

The Doctor was silent in his fury.

It was a quiet, simmering _fire_ that sat just below the surface. Only visible in the ancient storm brewing deep in those bright blue eyes. Hidden beneath a visage of mild interest as he pretended to listen to Van Statten and his senseless _boasting_.

 _Stupid Human._

He followed as the proud man led him down a number of non-descript hallways. Lips pulled into a tight smile as Van Statten painted a morbid picture of the life his _living specimens_ had been subjected to in his ' _museum_ ' of alien artifacts.

"You know, that girl's an interesting specimen. She _looks_ human. But after dissecting her, it became more than obvious she's anything but." Van Statten was _bragging_. Head held high as he strode down the hall. Leading the Doctor towards the 'famous' _cage_. "In fact. She's, quite frankly, _unbelievable_. Like something out of Star Trek. If only her blood was _green_."

 _Disgusting_.

"What about the other one? Your _first_ living specimen." Despite his growing ire, the Doctor had managed to keep his voice almost _jovial_ as he tried to divert Van Statten's attention. He just _couldn't_ listen to him talk about the girl anymore.

"Ah, you mean my prized possession. Unlike the girl, this one actually _looks_ alien. And it doesn't give me half the trouble she does. And that's _including_ the trouble we have getting into it." Van Statten seemed _excited_ at the change in topic. Like a kid talking about his favorite cartoon. _The Doctor couldn't stand it_. The man was treating these _lives_ like they were nothing but a **TOY**.

"We've tried everything. The creature has shielded itself, but there's definite signs of life inside." Van Statten continued his explanation, and the Doctor gave the man his full attention. Pushing aside his anger in favor of discovering more about this mysterious _First Specimen_. If he could figure out _what_ Van Statten had kidnapped, he could figure out the best way to help it and the girl.

"Inside? Inside what?" The Doctor questioned. Following Van Statten as the man led them into a room. A small number of people were already inside, and, as far as the Doctor could tell, they seemed to be _preparing_ the room. Gathered around a control panel with a small set of monitors on it. Clipboards held in hand as they waited. _Scientists_.

"Welcome back, sir. I've had to take the power down. The Metaltron is resting." A man in a bright orange safety suit had walked up to the pair, interrupting their discussion. The Doctor bit back his _annoyance_ as the man all but ignored him, instead focusing his attention on the tidbit of information the man had, unwittingly, given him.

"Metaltron?" Genuine _curiosity_ colored his tone as he drew the attention of Van Statten and the orange-man (who he dubbed idiot #2) to him. Eager to find out more about this mysterious alien.

"Thought of it myself. Good, isn't it? Although I'd much prefer to find out its _real_ name." And there was that _pride_ again. With a hint of something else.

If he hadn't seen the girl. If he hadn't seen what Van Statten had done to her in the name of _curiosity._ He'd have said it was genuine _interest_ in the unknown that colored the man's words. But his image of the man had already been tarnished. _Tainted_ with the memory of her broken and battered body. Now he could only see Van Statten as a _MONSTER._ He wasn't a scholar. He wasn't a rich man with an expensive pastime. He wasn't a man who wanted to see the stars. He wasn't a man with a respect for the unknown. He was _human_. He was twisted and **dark** and ruthless. He was _selfish_ and egotistical and _pathetic_. He was everything that was _wrong_ with humanity. _An Ape_.

Idiot #2 had turned to the Doctor, holding out a pair of heavy-duty utility gloves and pulling the man from his idle thoughts.

"Here, you better put these on. The last guy who touched it burst into flames." Idiot #2 spoke up, acknowledging the Doctor for the first time since their arrival.

Obviously, someone had told Idiot #2 that he was planning on visiting their mysterious alien. Or the man had connected the dots on his own. It didn't really matter in the end. What _did_ matter was the new bit of information he'd gained about _Subject #1._ The Alien, whatever it was, managed to make a man combust via touch. He now knew 3 things about the alien.

Had reasonably strong telepathic abilities (enough to contact him in the TARDIS, and communicate with _Subject #2_ )

The real body is hidden away in some kind of container. Presumably something _Metal_ (Metaltron? Really?) but strong enough to withstand 21st-century technology.

The Alien had managed to make a man combust (or something similar) via touch. Either a self-defense or a weapon. But if it was a weapon, why only use it once? A peaceful species? Or did it lack power? Perhaps its suit had been damaged.

Narrowed down the possibilities. But there were still far too many for him to make any concrete plans regarding an _escape_. Hopefully, seeing the alien would help shed some light on the poor soul's species. If only so he could _help_.

"I won't touch it then." The Doctor shrugged, ignoring the proffered gloves with a tight smile. A few people in the room seemed _amused_ by his response. Curious. Either Idiot #2 wasn't much liked, or Van Statten's employees were just as twisted and sadistic as he was, and they were looking forward to a **roast** …

"Go ahead, Doctor. Impress me." Van Statten's words were like a _challenge._ And the tension in the room seemed to double as the bystanders looked on with a mix of amusement and _pity_.

The Doctor turned his attention to the large, safe-like door that had been left wide open after Idiot #2 had walked out. Simply offering Van Statten another tight smile before he walked past the man and into the 'CAGE' without a moment of hesitation. He didn't have any time to waste, after all, there were people who needed his help, and time was of the essence.

The room was dark, dank, and depressing. The girl was locked in a room of steel. Subject#1 a room of concrete. Florescent lights lined the ceiling, but only one light remained on. Barely managing to illuminate one dirty corner of the room he'd found himself in. The large, safe-like door had slammed shut behind him. Locks clicking into place upon Van Statten's orders. The Doctor paid it no mind. Instead, focusing his attention on the room, and the Alien supposedly hidden within the darkness that enshrouded it.

He froze as his wondering gaze caught sight of a small silver cart. Jaw _tensing_ as he took in the barbaric torture tools glinting under the poor lighting. His hands _clenched_ , knuckles turning white as his anger _spiked._ His mind conjuring up twisted images of one of those _APES_ USING those tools.

' _After dissecting her…'_

Van Statten's earlier words were brought to the forefront of his mind, and the Doctor was forced to bite back a primal _growl_ of anger as he realized these tools were likely used on the girl as well. _He shouldn't be surprised_. He'd seen her scars. He'd seen the red-stained bandages wrapped around her body, holding her together like _duct tape_. He'd seen the bruises and the _burns_ and the barely healed cuts that littered her too-pale skin. _She'd been tortured_. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that she'd been tortured. But to _see_ the tools that had caused those injuries. To see the man who'd used them… it was all too easy to picture what had happened.

 _He was mad_.

No. More than mad. He was _enraged_. But he'd contain it. He'd push it down. Bury his anger. For now. But later… _Van Statten and every idiot ape that LET this happen would pay for what they'd done._

 _Deep breath_.

Pale blue eyes squeezed shut as the Doctor pushed those dark thoughts to the back of his mind. Turning away from the torture cart and forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. _He couldn't waste his time._ He had to hurry up and figure out a way to _save_ her. And to do that, he had make a plan.

 _Exhale_.

Mind set, the Doctor turned his attention to the far end of the room. Gaze focused on the one floating light in the darkness. He pushed aside his anger as best he could. Taking deep, measured breaths to ease away the worst of it.

"Look, I'm sorry about this. Mister Van Statten might _think_ he's clever, but never mind him." Genuine _sympathy_ laced his words. The Doctor's tone soft and _calm_ (or as calm as he could manage) in an effort ease the poor soul Van Statten had trapped here. "I've come to help. I'm the Doctor."

"Doc- _tor._ " The deep, mechanical voice broke the silence of the room. The guttural, grinding sound sparking a deep, undeniable **fear** in the Doctor's hearts.

" _Impossible_."

 _It couldn't be. Oh no it_ _ **COULDN'T**_ _be!_

" _THE_ DOCTOR?" The voice grew _louder_. **SHOUTING**. He was frozen in place, watching with wide, terrified blue eyes as the lights in the room turned on. Glinting off the dull metal shell of the _creature_ inside. _A_ _Dalek_. "EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE!" The battle cry echoed off the dirty concrete walls. And like a man possessed the Doctor moved on instinct, turning towards the door and banging his open palm against it. _Desperate_ to get **AWAY**.

"LET ME OUT! _LET ME OUT!_ " His hand curled into a fist and _pounded_ against the iron door hard enough to hurt. **TERROR** coursing through his veins and making his hands _shake_. The Dalek rolled forward, only to _jerk_ to a stop when the thick iron chains wrapped around his metal body clanged taught, refusing to let him move any further. That damn _word_ repeated over and over and _over_. _EXTERMINATE. EXTERMINATE. EXTERMINATE._ Still, the door wouldn't open. He couldn't even _budge it_. He was TRAPPED. Trapped here with a _Dalek_. He was going to _**DIE**_. _He wasn't ready. Not yet. He couldn't die yet._

"YOU ARE AN ENEMY OF THE DALEKS! YOU MUST BE DESTROYED!"

The Doctor turned. Watching with open panic as the Dalek's gun _twitched_. He held his breath. Waiting for _death_ … and he waited… and he waited… and… nothing happened. No _buzz_ or flash of light. No burning pain or endless darkness. Nothing. _Nothing happened_.

"It's not working." _Relief_ flooded his system. The panic chased away by a sudden sense of JOY. _It was broken_. He was SAFE.

Bright, maniac laughter bubbled forth, pouring past the Doctor's lips without restraint. _He was alive!_ He was still alive! Oh, this was – this was—

" _Fantastic!_ Oh, _fantastic!_ Powerless! Look at you. The great space dustbin. How does it feel?" He couldn't help but _taunt_. Moving forward, relishing in the way the Dalek reared back in _fear_. Good. It **SHOULD** be afraid.

"KEEP BACK!" That disgusting, mechanical voice filled the room. Useless gun arm twitching and jerking in a desperate attempt to _kill him_. The Doctor ignored it. Moving until he was standing only inches away. Leaning forward to stare straight into the dark blue eyepiece.

"What for? What're you going to do to me? If you can't kill, then what are you good for, Dalek? What's the point of you? You're _nothing_. What the hell are you _here_ for?" His expression was _firm_. Blue gaze burning, _demanding_ answers.

 _He deserved answers_.

"I AM WAITING FOR ORDERS." The Dalek stated it as if it was _obvious_.

"What does that mean?"

"I AM A SOLDIER. I WAS BRED TO RECEIVE ORDERS." _A Soldier._ The Doctor's rage had tempered. Memories of the war, all too fresh, all too _potent_ , flashing before his eyes. _Everything was burning_. It was all his fault. _A Soldier_.

"Well, you're never going to get any. Not ever." The Doctor's tone was almost _regretful_. Pulling back from the creature standing before him. Guilt weighing heavy on him as more memories pushed forth. So much death. So much _destruction_.

"I DEMAND ORDERS!" That grating voice broke him from his reprieve. And like a switch, his anger returned in full force. _Blazing_ like the fires burning in his memories.

"They're never going to come! Your race is dead! You all _burnt_ , all of you. Ten million ships on **fire**. The entire Dalek race _wiped out_ in one second." _He was yelling_. His voice echoing off the walls. He didn't care.

"YOU LIE!" The Dalek sounded almost _desperate_.

"I watched it happen. I _made_ it happen." _He made it happen_. Everyone _burned,_ and it was all **HIS** fault. _All of them_. _Burning_. _His fault_.

"YOU DESTROYED US?" The question was oddly quiet. And if Dalek's were capable, the Doctor would've thought it was _somber_. That alone was enough to bring the guilt back in force. Head bowed down, his whole frame bending slightly under the weight of all he'd done. _He'd done it. He'd destroyed them._ ALL of them.

"I had no choice." An excuse. One he'd repeated to himself countless times. A desperate attempt to ease the pain of his choices. Even now, it sounded like a _lie_.

"AND WHAT OF THE TIME LORDS?"

 _And what of them?_

"Dead. They burnt with you. The end of the last great Time War. Everyone lost." _Everyone._ And there was nothing he could do. _And it was all his fault_.

"AND THE COWARD SURVIVED." The accusation sounded so much _worse_ coming from the broken Dalek. The sting so much more _potent_. The Doctor felt like he'd been slapped.

"Oh, and I caught your little _signal._ " He _snapped_. Tone harsh and insulting. Anger slowly _building_. " _Help me._ Poor little thing. But there's no one else coming 'cause there's no one else _left_."

He didn't bother to mention the woman who'd asked him to _save_ the Dalek. She didn't _know_. She had no idea what it really was.

He had wondered, briefly, if she'd been the one to send the signal. But quickly dismissed the thought. She was telepathic. But it was all scattered. Broken and half-formed thoughts drifting without a firm purpose. Nothing strong enough to reach him. Not while he was in the TARDIS at least. Not to mention the fact that, when he'd _seen_ her, she'd never once asked for his help. Instead urging him to run and asking him to help the other one. No. The signal wasn't from her.

"I AM ALONE IN THE UNIVERSE." The Dalek seemed to _deflate_. Eyestalk falling, in either pain or thought, he didn't know. Once again, that almost somber, sorrowful tone tainting its harsh mechanical voice. The Doctor didn't care. Pushing away any lingering hint of guilt he'd once felt for the creature. Holding tight to the righteous _anger_ that had filled him only moments before.

"Yup." The Doctor spoke without remorse. Popping the 'p' as he stood _proud_.

"SO ARE YOU. WE ARE THE SAME." The eyestalk shifted, focusing on him. And the Doctor felt that anger _BOIL_. Jaw _tensing_ and fingers curling into tight fists as he glared at the _creature_ in front of him.

'We're NOT the same! I'm not—" _He paused_. A small, _dark_ smile tilted his lips as an idea formed. Cold, ice blue gaze turning to the Dalek in almost maniac glee.

"No, wait. Maybe we are. You're right. Yeah, okay. You've got a point. 'Cause I know what to do. I know what should happen. I know what you deserve. _Exterminate._ " As he spoke, the Doctor took a few measured steps back. Stopping beside a forgotten control panel. His smile grew wide as he reached over. Fingers wrapping around a leaver. _He pulled it._ And the Dalek **SCREAMED**. Electricity arching off the metal frame, filling the room with the acidic smell of something _burning_.

"HAVE PITY!" The Dalek _begged_. Pain lacing every word.

 _It was still screaming._

The Doctor just _snarled_.

"Why should I? YOU never did."

He _glared_ at it. Holding tight to the lever. He ignored the security guards that stormed into the room. Ignored every desperate _plea_ for help the Dalek gave. Ignored the small, quiet voice in his head that told him this was _wrong_. Ignored everything but his _hatred_ for the creature chained and _helpless_ before him, and the leaver held tight in his hand.

He pushed leaver further, watching in sick satisfaction as the electricity grew more _intense_ , and the Dalek's **screams** echoed against the concrete walls.

Rough hands gripped him, _pulling_ him back. Idiot #2 rushing forward to flip the lever and turn off the machine as a group of security dragged The Doctor from the room.

 _NO_. No, they **COULDN'T**. _It wasn't dead yet_. It could still HURT people! _They needed to kill it._ HE NEEDED TO KILL IT!

"You've got to destroy it!" He demanded. He _begged_. All but forgetting the girl who'd asked for his help; and his unspoken promise to _save them both_ in his desperate need to _kill_ the Dalek.

…

 _Time_ was a confusing thing. She couldn't watch it. Couldn't mark its passing. Couldn't acknowledge it in any way, shape, or form. Yet still, it moved on. Seconds ticking by without end. Each seeming to stretch on into eternity as she sat there _waiting_ for the man, the Doctor, to save her. Never before had time seemed so _endless_. No doubt a side-effect from her newfound _hope_.

She couldn't say _where_ this hope came from. Couldn't place how this trust in the ancient man grew so firm, so _unshakable,_ in the short time she'd known him. But it was there. Deep in her hearts. Etched into her soul. A belief that he would do everything in his power to **help**. A belief that he would _save them_. Perhaps it was the sharp look in those ancient eyes. Or the unspoken promise in his smile. Or perhaps it was simply her own desperation that cemented this _need_ to believe him. But it was there. Firm and undeniable. And she held it close. Trusting in it, and in the Doctor, to save her from this steel room.

…

Seconds, hours, minutes, or days. She couldn't say _how long_ it had been since the man had left. She spent the time imagining, _dreaming_ of her freedom. Of the endless starry night sky and the soft touch of the desert wind. She dreamed of the warm kiss of the bright sun, and of the fluffy, floating clouds with the baby blue backdrop. She dreamed of the birds, chirping and flying about without restraint. Of the gentle scent of brightly blooming flowers and the distant horizon painted with colors that defied all logic. She dreamed of adventures, and laughter, and soft smiles and delicious food and everything one could hope for.

 _And then she saw it_.

The steel walls around her had melted away as images flashed before her. _Visions_ of either what _was_ or what _could be_. Or perhaps, what already _has been_. Future or past, she couldn't place. Or perhaps it was neither. Perhaps it was nothing but a twisted _horror_ , some self-made nightmare her broken mind had concocted to torture her.

She saw the Doctor.

His face had changed. Aged and worn, his eyes clouded with something _terrifying_. A _darkness_ hung around him. His frame bent over in _defeat_. Tattered clothing hanging off his frame a testament to whatever desperate fight he'd been a part of. His hair was white. Disheveled and dirty, sticking up at odd angles. Everything about him was _different_. Yet still, he was the Doctor. She could tell. Could _see it_ in his ancient gaze. _He was the Doctor_.

And something was _wrong_.

He stood in a barn.

Abandoned in and forgotten in an endless desert. Sunlight streaming through the cracks in the old wooden walls. It was uncomfortably _quiet_ , and the Doctor seemed almost _solemn_. Gaze distant and unfocused. In front of him sat a box, decorated with swirling, circular designs. On the box sat a woman. Or rather, _it_ had taken the form of a woman. Whatever _it_ was, it was _unnatural_. And it was staring right at her. Eyes brimming with the unknown, a knowledge she couldn't hope to understand. It could see her. Whatever it was. It was looking _into_ her. Into her very soul. **JUDGING** her for everything she is and everything she _would_ be and everything she COULD be. It smiled.

 _She blinked_.

And the scene shifted. Colors blending, _bleeding_ together. A blur of movement. And suddenly she was standing in the middle of a **WAR**. Children _screaming_. Broken, desperate cries from young and old alike. Fire _raged_ , the sky filled with smoke, choking out the once beautiful scenery. Buildings crumbled around them. Falling to pieces as beams of light shot out, killing people without remorse or discrimination. It was a _slaughter_.

 _It was terrifying_.

A deep, _primal_ fear gripped her heart as she watched everything die around her. She couldn't move. Even as everything inside her _screamed_ at her to _RUN_. She watched with growing terror as people _died_ and the children **SCREAMED,** and she couldn't _move_. She needed to MOVE. _Why couldn't she move?_ And then she saw the child. Standing there amongst the chaos. Bright eyes staring straight at her. Silver-blonde hair flying around pale features, reflecting the bright, ever-changing lights of the battlefield. Pale pink lips parted, and time seemed to slow around the as the girl spoke.

 _Trust—_

Suddenly everything shifted again. Colors rearranging themselves, settling into a new picture. The echo of the war fading into her memory as a new vision took hold.

In front of her was the Doctor.

Features twisted into an expression of pure _pain._

Her hearts _ached_ in sympathy. Watching on, hopeless to help as his face kept on _shifting_. Changing from one to the next to the next to the next. An old man. A young man. A woman. Countless faces. Each so different. Each holding the same broken expression.

 _It was wrong._

All of it. It was all so very _wrong_.

She didn't like it. In fact, she _hated_ it. She wanted to _fix it_. To ease away the pain and hurt and _regret_ that corrupted the Doctor's features. She wanted to make it _better_. But she didn't know **HOW**. Didn't know if she _could_. She was a stranger, and the Doctor something so much _more_ than she could ever hope to be. How could she help him?

 _A scream_.

The visions all _swept_ away like sand in the wind as a broken _SCREAM_ filled her mind. Her hearts were beating against her ribcage. A frantic and erratic drum-beat that echoed in her ears and left her hands shaking in their restraints as adrenaline pumped through her veins. _The Doctor_. She could _hear_ him. Much like she could hear the other prisoner of Van Statten's museum. A voice. A _feeling_. Broken and _raw_ and laced with pain. _He was in pain_. Van Statten was _hurting_ him.

 _She fought against her restraints_. Body twisting, _writhing_ in place as she fought to get out. Desperate to help him, to _save him_. Tears poured down her face and pain shot through her body as the cuffs holding her in place cut into her skin.

It was almost like she could _see him_. The Doctor. _Her_ Doctor. Features young, but his eyes so _old_. Burdened with such an ancient pain. Broad shoulders tense with pain. Bare chest raising with each labored breath he struggled to take. Strapped to a wall with Van Statten standing before him. Expression shifting into something of mild disappointment as he read the results of his little machine.

 _An alarm sounded_ , and the vision melted away. In front of her was a steel wall.

A silent sob shook her frame. Her desperate struggle coming to an abrupt end as all her strength seemed to bleed away now that the screaming had _stopped_.

 _I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry._

She wasn't sure he could hear her, wasn't sure he _wanted_ to hear her. But still, she apologized. She apologized to the Doctor, _trapped_ and in pain. Left to Van Statten's mercy. She apologized to the _other one_. Van Statten's first prisoner. Broken and lost, locked away in his dark, and dirty cell. _So alone_. She apologized to herself. For being so weak and hopeless. And she apologized, simply because she felt It was _needed_.

 _I'm sorry. I'm sorry. So sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry._

Like a mantra, the silent apologizes continued on endless repeat.

 _And then her door opened_.


End file.
